


Phone Calls

by ribbonelle



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: ??? sorta but not really, Casual Sex, Dirty Talk, M/M, Phone Sex, Porn, hopeless virgin best friends sexing each other up on the phone i'm so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 19:03:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ribbonelle/pseuds/ribbonelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean and Marco talk on the phone every night and it's some sort of a habit, but there's always tension at the end of every conversation. They decide to stop avoiding it, one day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phone Calls

**Author's Note:**

> i have always had an affinity for dirty talk, but i've never actually tried to write it before hence this pathetic attempt to actually fix that. god, this is so bad, i won't lie, but i tried and ughehg please give me concrit if you feel like! i'd like to know how to improve, if you'd help me  
> anyways um, daft punk is a favorite and idk why i put that there, and i personally thought the phone calls didn't even last long but i want to blame them for being hopeless virgins in my head but its basically my fault.  
> (i'm also to blame for making marco a tease bc idk i like that idea)  
> apologizing for the title!!! it's 2 am
> 
> ok!! done rambling, enjoy!

Neither of them could actually be sure when the phone calls started becoming a habit. It was almost silly when all things were considered, they both go to the same university and have mostly the same classes; they see each other literally every day for lunch. They never talked about important things during the calls, just absent inquiries about what they were doing, and empty plans for an undetermined future.

It could be that they just like to listen to the other’s voice, but that would be pretty homosexual now, wouldn’t it?

They were nothing but best friends.

But at one point, the phone calls became more frequent, from either one of them. It didn’t matter. But it happened during the night, and it kept on happening.

It eventually became a daily occurrence, and there was no denying the tension that would arise between them before they ended the calls. Sometimes they think that was why it was so addictive. Those moments when one of them would have said something a little off, and there would be nothing but the sounds of them breathing into their respective cell phones.

Marco, or Jean would always cut off the conversation there, bidding the other boy good night. There was no telling what would take place if they didn’t.

They kept calling each other at nights anyway. Someday, they would find out what would happen. But till then.

//

It happened.

Marco was trying to ignore how hard he was gripping the phone in his palm, ignoring the way his toes were curling as he bit his lip.

There was once more, nothing but the sound of Jean breathing into the phone and Marco was sure it was the same for his friend. This time, though, they both refused to end the conversation.

“I won’t lie, though,” Jean said, after a while, “Black hair really gets me hot.”

He was referring to Mikasa, of course, Marco thought. A mutual friend who was foreign-looking, and very, very pretty. Marco knew about Jean’s almost juvenile crush on her and had teased Jean so many times about it, but it didn’t stop the warmth from coiling in his chest, spreading lower. He laughed anyway, dismissing the fact that it sounded a little breathy.

“Jaeger must really do it for you then, hm?”

“Ugh _no._ God, Marco, don’t even say his name.” Jean’s indignant tone was really amusing, “I hate him. He’s not even my type. At all. _You_ , on the other hand…”

His voice had gone low at that last part, and Marco’s eyes widened. He could feel Jean pause as well, probably not meaning to say what he had said. The tension was almost palpable, which was ridiculous, really, they were just on the phone.

That didn’t stop Marco from crossing his legs in a gesture of restraint.

“I’m very flattered, Jean.” He joked, and if his tone was more than teasing, then that was just because of the smile on his face, “Nice to know I’ve got what it takes to get you hot. I should use that, sometime.”

Jean’s laughter was breathy too, and it was doing terrible, terrible things to Marco’s insides.

“What about you, man? What turns you on?”

They probably shouldn’t be doing this. There were definitely a lot of lines being crossed, in the rulebook of being best friends with no interest in each other romantically, or even, sexually, or maybe there weren’t any lines being crossed at all, they were just friends talking about unnecessary things and were just fooling around, but then god, why was Marco getting hard?

“A lot of things. Like you wouldn’t believe. I’ll list it out to you sometime. It’s midnight, though, and we’ve both got that class at 7, remember?”

There was a pause and a vague smacking noise, “Shit, I didn’t even realize what time it was. Yeah, we do. Can you just miscall me when you wake up so I can actually get my ass out of bed for that?”

The trance has broken and everything was right again, even Marco’s light laughter sounded normal, “Sure, Jean. Don’t sleep too late. See you tomorrow, okay?”

“See ya. Bye, Marco.” the phone clicked off and all was left was the beep, and Marco disconnected with a sigh. He placed his cell on the table beside his bed, and laid his head down on his pillow, closing his eyes for a while.

He tried not to feel like an ass when he reached under the covers and inside his boxers and thought about breathy laughter.

//

The funny thing about all of this was that they were perfectly normal when they met in classes, taking seats next to each other and having conversations face to face like two completely platonic best friends.

Jean wasn’t sure if he liked it, or if he was annoyed by it.

Mostly the latter, because Marco was a great best friend and it would suck if everything got awkward, anyway. It was just those instances when they spoke into phones at night and when their voices morphed into something a little sultrier that made his gut twist into various shapes.

Jean wondered if they would ever get to the end of that certain conversation.

Jean wasn’t sure if he really wanted to.

But sure enough, just as the clock struck 9, his phone rang. (He didn’t remember when he set it so that ‘Around the World’ by Daft Punk would come on whenever Marco called, but it was Pavlovian now, he perked up every time he heard the synthesized bass line.) He picked up without hesitation, and easily enough they slipped into simple conversation about each other’s day.

It usually didn’t get intense till it was 9.30.

//

Last night, Jean had cut off their conversation as Marco described in great detail about his most daring escapade concerning jacking off. Apparently, Marco had almost been caught jerking it in the library of his high school when he was a senior, and got twenty bucks out of it.

Jean decided then that Marco’s high school friends were sick fucks, and also that hearing Marco say the words, ‘fucking my hand’ was going to be the death of him someday.

It was almost suffocating how badly Jean needed to stick his hands down his pants while Marco chuckled in that way he did past 10pm, and it still amazed him how casual they could be the next morning, despite the bizarre nature of their conversations every night.

But it didn’t feel bad, didn’t feel wrong when he sat opposite Marco and had small talk with him, sharing a box of doughnuts for lunch.

“You know about that place that opened three blocks down the Starbucks? Really posh looking joint?” Jean said, absently wiping the sugar from his mouth, “I’ve wanted to go there but man, I’m broke.”

Marco nodded in recognition, “Yeah, I know. It looks pretty nice! We should check it out someday. When we’ve got cash, of course.”

“Sure. But it comes off as real classy, y’know? Might be a weird place to hang out in.”

“Who cares? We should just try it out. It might not be so bad,” the words trailed off for a while, and Marco spoke up suddenly after, looking at Jean with something indescribable, “Seriously. Just get there and indulge ourselves. Do whatever we want.”

Jean paused, and he was looking at Marco too, box of doughnuts forgotten, “I get you. Just go through with it, right? It’s not like we have anything to lose. Don’t we?”

“Not at all.”

They both were very sure that the conversation wasn’t about the new restaurant that had opened anymore.

//

Marco really wasn’t surprised when Jean called him an hour earlier that night.

He’d anticipated it, which wasn’t something he felt like admitting since they were friends and nothing but that, despite the way he was sitting on his bed with his back pressed against the wall, the only source of light coming from his desk lamp.

Something had shifted in the atmosphere, he noticed, as they both were silent a while after the initial exchange of greetings, and Marco felt that familiar coil in his gut.

“So, Marco,” Jean started, his voice something different, “You never really did answer my question that day.”

“Which one?”

“What turns you on?”

Marco couldn’t help a wry smile. No build up, no meaningless foreplay. Jean had always been straight to the point, and Marco should have expected this to be the same, really. He laughed lightly, hoping it didn’t come off as too eager or anything, “Well…a number of things? Not really specific physical characteristics either, not like your thing for black hair.”

Jean snorted, and Marco could hear him shift the phone a little, probably getting comfortable, “Okay, interesting. Like what?”

“Um. I’ve got a thing for begging? As weird as that sounds?”

He smirked at Jean’s surprised laughter, “Wow, Bodt, didn’t know you were that kinky.”

“It’s not _that_ uncommon, it’s just nice to hear, I guess.”

“So stuff like, ‘oh god, Marco _please,’_ are good in your book?”

The question didn’t even register in Marco’s mind because there was no way that wasn’t deliberate, the way Jean actually put effort into moaning his name as if mocking a bad porno line, but it was Jean, and he said please, and it all just converged into a sharp spike of heat down Marco’s core.

“Yeah,” he said, almost breathlessly, “Yeah, just like that.”

There was silence, that palpable tension present once again, but this time, Marco decided to just let it stay there, finally see what would happen.

Jean probably decided the same, and when he spoke again, his voice was a little shaky, “I think I can understand the appeal. What else do you like?”

“I like it rough.”

A whoosh of air and there was no mistaking that want in Jean’s voice, “Jesus Christ, Marco.”

All Marco could do was laugh a little, already getting all squirmy, trying to keep it together, “What? Like I said, it’s not that uncommon, Jean.”

“The fact that you like these kind of things sort of tip the whole ‘Freckled Jesus’ thing right off the scale, though.”

“Would you rather I be into getting rough, or not?”

Jean cleared his throat, probably biding for time, “Does it matter what I think?”

“Yeah,” Marco’s voice dropped, and he was as honest as he could be at the moment, “It does.”

Another bout of silence, but it was not confusing anymore. Just thick with things unsaid, and things about to be said.

“It’d work well, don’t you think?” Marco pressed the phone closer to his ear, noting how low Jean’s voice was, “You like it rough. I like black hair. Could have a field day tugging at those locks, no shit.”

A moan bubbled from his lips out of his own volition in agreement, “Oh, yeah. Hair pulling is great. Bite me all over, that’s good too. But hickeys would look good on you, you’re paler than I am.”

“Why don’t,” Jean strained to level his voice, the slight hitching audible even to Marco, “You tell me what you would do in that kind of situation. In detail.”

This was it. They were finally, actually doing this. Marco surprisingly could care less about the gravity of it all right then.

“You have the best range of facial expressions compared to everyone else I’ve known. I’d tease you.”

“Ugh, should’ve known. I’d probably try to speed things up, though. Hate waiting.”

“I like to take my time , and well, if you’re a good boy, then it’ll all be worth it. “ His face burned with the admission, because that was probably the cheesiest thing ever said in mankind. Calling someone a ‘good boy’ was one of the ultimate clichés, and Jean was probably thinking twice about this.

Marco could almost swear he heard something like a zipper being pulled down, before Jean breathed into the phone again, “Oh, yeah? You know me, I won’t simply just listen to you. Not for a while, anyway. What if I don’t play nice?”

“Easy. I tie you up.” The hitch in Jean’s breath was like a reward, “Assuming we’re on a bed, I’d tie you to the headboard. Touch you in every way I can think of. Everywhere. Except your dick.”

That word was surreal passing through Marco’s lips, and Jean actually fucking moaned, and Marco was already palming himself through his pants. “ _Jesus,_ Marco. You’re not nice at all.”

He snickered in response, “From the sound of it, you don’t really care.”

“I don’t. I really, really don’t. When you say everywhere though…would there be kisses?”

“Cute, Jean. But of course.”

“I’ll bite the hell out of your mouth, no shit. You’re a tease.”

“I _like_ biting. So yeah, fuck, do that.”

Jean laughed, and there was noise in the background but there was no way in hell was Marco going to ask, the situation was incredible enough, they were going through with it, for real. It was amazing how you can pretend your own fingers were someone else’s with just the help of their voice.

“I wanna know if you’ve got freckles down your back. See what they look like all reddened up.”

“God, yeah, Jean.”

Saying Jean’s name might have been a little too personal, but that didn’t stop the other boy at all, “Is it too much to hope there’s freckles on your cock?”

Marco’s turn to laugh, despite how his mentioned body part twitched, taking note how the word ‘cock’ sounded as a murmur in Jean’s voice. “A little.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“The insides of my thighs, though.”

Momentary silence, “ _Sweet._ ”

“You gonna do something about that?”

“The moment my hands are free, you’ll see. It’ll be fun getting in between your legs, all spread out for me.”

He wasn’t sure when the transition of ‘would’ to ‘will’ happened in their conversation, but no one was complaining, and for some reason, the added eager expectation and hope was an even bigger turn on. Marco let himself moan audibly, nevertheless, running his fingernails lightly along himself.

He could imagine Jean doing the exact opposite, if Jean was true to what he said and if he was even remotely turned on by all of this. Probably fisting himself hard and fast, trying to get there as soon as possible.

“Marco,” Jean’s voice was a little ragged, and Marco silently confirmed his assumptions, “Marco, come on. You there?”

“Yeah, I just…” a simple movement and he wrapped his fingers around his cock, squeezing a little, “I’d ride you. Hard.”

A strangled moan and Jean was almost whispering, “What? How? You into that?”

“Shit, man, I’m into everything. Ride you while your hands are tied. Or even fuck you like that. I don’t care, I’ll take it both ways.”

“Marco, god, I’m—“ Jean’s breathing came through the phone in harsh panting now, and it was the hottest thing Marco had ever heard in his life, “Both ways? Fuck. I want to watch you. Fucking yourself on me, _fucking_ me oh fuck, _Marco_ \--.”

Fuck being slow, fuck being anything because Marco was going to lose it, his hand pulling at himself hard and fast and he bit his lip hard enough to feel the skin give way, his phone pressed painfully to his ear as he got off on listening to Jean falling over the edge with him.

He came with a muffled groan, heat spilling into his hand and over his fingers and it took a while to get his breathing straight again, pleasure like a heavy weight trudging through his veins. There was a shout on the other line and he heard something clatter, and registered it as the phone actually falling from Jean’s grip.

He felt oddly smug about that.

Silence, before a scrambling sound and Jean was back on the phone, breathless, “Shit, sorry. Phone fell down.”

“It’s okay. It’s cool,” Marco laughed lightly, flying high on endorphins and contentment, “It’s all good.”

Jean chuckled as well and there was silence for a while, but it wasn’t awkward, just empty and comfortable. Marco was expecting regret, but it didn’t arise in him. He wasn’t sure if it was the same for Jean.

“See you tomorrow then, man. Class is at 9, right?” From his voice, there wasn’t anything off with his friend, instead it sounded like Jean was smiling, and Marco couldn’t help from grinning in return.

“Yeah, 9. Bring that CD you said you wanted me to listen to, you keep on forgetting.”

“Oh yeah, sure. Text me or something.”

“Will do. Night, Jean.”

“Night, Marco.”

Marco hung up. He tossed his phone aside and cleaned himself, before settling into bed, pulling the covers over his head.

The regret still wasn’t there, and Marco slept like a baby.

//

Jean walked out of his lecture hall to find Marco already waiting for him outside,  messing with his iPod.

There was the usual spike of excitement at the sight of his best friend, but nothing more, nothing less, and Jean felt glad about the fact that he wasn’t going to be awkward about what had transpired. Marco looked up eventually and smiled the way he always does, waving Jean over.

They got lunch together and the banter and conversation were familiar and comfortable and it was all cool, just like Marco had said.

//

Jean was in the midst of drying his hair, when his phone lit up, spouting the synth beats of Daft Punk, and he really couldn’t help the big grin he had on his face as he accepted the call and said hello to Marco.

 

 


End file.
